


Lay My Head Down to Rest

by FelicityGS



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Asgard, Culture Shock, Curses, Fae & Fairies, Fate, Hurt/Comfort, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Jötunn Loki, Magic and Science, More tags to be added, Other, fuck your gender binary, tony stark's curiosity is gonna get him killed one day, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3078092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityGS/pseuds/FelicityGS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony never actually <em>planned</em> on his life work to focus around finding an alien civilization that he grew up hearing about, ninety percent sure his uncle was lying through his teeth. And, for the most part, it hadn’t. Between the Iron Man suit and arc reactor technology, he’s been busy.</p><p>Jotunheim’s just been a side-project. A pipe dream. A fairy tale to drink over, every now and then.</p><p>(The problem is that ten percent really; Uncle Lukka was always great at making him believe, lack of evidence be damned.)</p><p>And now, absolutely vital--because if there’s a drop of truth in anything Lukka said, Tony might have a way to stop the palladium poisoning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkWaterFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkWaterFalls/gifts).



> day six (after a brief pause) of the 12 Days of Yule for 2015!
> 
> STORY NOTES: This is a long one. Holy fudge is it long. And world-buildy. And crunchy. So bear with me, because while I know everything that comes next and have it planned, I have 0 time to write it with my current work schedule. 
> 
> But this will be finished, hell or high water, because I'm hella proud of the story I want to tell and all the potential it has. 
> 
> THIS FIRST CHAPTER DOES NOT FEATURE TONY. NOT REALLY. STRAP IN IT'S ALL CONTEXT YOU'LL NEED FOR PART 3.
> 
>  _giftee notes_ Clare has been one of the best people I've met through fandom. She's kind and generous and wonderful, sends me wine gums across the globe, spots me money when I need it, puts up with my slow knitting speed, and is always so clever and fun to talk to. 
> 
> She was the one who wanted this one more than anything when I first started planning it, and I'm so so happy I can begin to deliver.

Zie’s always known about the curse.

Well.

Everyone says it’s a curse. Everyone looks at zir with sad eyes and forced smiles—Loki firstborn, Laufey’s favourite kip. Loki wants to add Loki-the-kip-of-idiots-who-decided-to-piss-off-a-fairy-king; everyone is thinking it already, after all, though none will say it and they act offended enough when Loki says it for them. Even Laufey gets angry at zir for it, impressive considering how very _much_ zir mother lets zir get away with.

But Loki has done zir research—beings that can curse others to fall into a thousand year-long slumber certainly are _interesting_ , and Loki wouldn’t mind that sort of power—and it might be a curse, but it’s also a blessing. No political marriage, for one thing, at least not right away. A thousand years into the future; just thinking about it makes zir mouth water and fingers itch.

See, Loki has _ideas_ about who zir sire might be. Zie’s got lines that don’t match any Jotnar lines—zie’s looked—and Farbauti always gets a pinched look around the mouth when looking at zir. Loki’s also got magic and though most Jotnar can do tricks, none of them are quite so deft with it as Loki. Magic hums beneath zir hands, is as much a part of zir soul as the rest of zir, and that’s a fairy thing, not a Jotnar thing. Mostly.

Zie’s also got a head of hair, is shorter than everyone else, and can shape change.

Really, why no one just comes out and says Laufey’s favourite isn’t actually sired by Farbauti is beyond zir—everyone knows it’s not the sire that matters. Probably politics. Probably the same politics that led to zir idiot parents not inviting the fairy king who is probably-but-not-certainly Loki’s sire. Everyone knows Laufey _mostly_ loves Farbauti, just like everyone knows Farbauti is awfully jealous for a princus-consort.

So it’s not a curse. Not really. It’s a gift, of sorts—a thousand years in the future, with all kinds of interesting things to do and find and explore, kind of like time travel without all the paradoxes zir books mention, the best kind of gift that Loki can imagine with all zir nine-year old self.

***

On zir thirteenth birthday, zie meets zir sire.

The birthday celebrations are in full swing, and it’s growing late even for zir. Zie’s tired and dizzy and very, very drunk. Zir head hurts, a little, from the weight of the gems woven into zir hair, but zir mother wanted them there and Loki sat through Laufey weaving them in zirself because it meant Loki’d be able to get away with more that night.

Farbauti has been suspiciously absent this evening, but Loki doesn’t think much of it. Zir foster-sire can be incredibly petty, or so Loki thinks.

“Loki,” Laufey calls, and Loki spins on zir heel, the room chasing after zir sight, until zir eyes settle on zir mother standing by the doors to the grand hall. Laufey is smiling at zir, but there’s a touch more to it than _only_ that—a pleasure, almost like moonglow, that zie’s never seen on Laufey. Loki grins back, slipping zir way between and under people, tripping most, and Laufey is laughing at zir, shaking zir head, and Loki only grins wider.

Not so many people appreciate Loki’s littler mischiefs like Laufey, and zie loves zir dearly for it.

“Loki,” Laufey repeats again, quieter, one broad hand settling on Loki’s shoulder. “You’re too young to be drinking.” Zir mother is guiding zir down the hallway, turning down smaller twists and passages that—if zie were sober—Loki would know intimately, but as is zie’s content to simply be led. It’s almost blessedly quiet and without meaning to zie yawns; without the buzz of other people, the alcohol makes zir wish zie were asleep. As is, zie doesn’t contradict Laufey, just leans a little more against zir and lets zir mother half-carry zir wherever it is they want to go.

“Spoilt thing,” Laufey says, scooping zir up, but Loki sprawls in zir arms anyway, the dull ache of zir hair being tugged by gems easing as zie’s carried. Eventually, they end up in the queen’s private quarters, Loki half-dozing in zir arms, one foot bouncing the tempo that Laufey has been walking at.

“What, can zie not walk?” a voice says, tenor and curling amusement like fire.

Laufey nearly drops zir as Loki shoots up—it’s one thing to be carried when no one is around to see, quite another when there’s some _stranger_ whose voice is accented in all the wrong ways for a Jotnar, pitched too high and hot on the air.

“I walk just fine,” Loki protests, ignoring how ridiculous zie must look as zie finally gets both feet on the ground, hands tight on one of Laufey’s wrists to balance.

“Hardly looks that way to me.”

“I’m the fastest in all the kingdom.”

“They probably let you win, look at you, barely able to stand upright.”

Loki feels zir face flush, but zie doesn’t look away from the stranger and zir brilliant blue eyes. They’re fascinating, at least under zir anger and the alcohol—zie’s never seen a blue like them, and zie almost doesn’t think they’re blue at all, but zie doesn’t have any other word for the colour.

“Loki,” Laufey says.

“What?” they both chime in unison.

Loki thinks zie might fall over as the stranger— _Loki_ —breaks into a brilliant grin that pulls the pale scars at zir lips.

“You named zir after me,” the elder laughs. “Well come here, if you can walk on your own like you say. Let me look at you.”

Loki figures that if zie’s going to be looked at zie might as well look back, letting go of Laufey’s wrist and making zir way over to the other—zir _sire_ apparently. It’s strange, being around someone close to zir height, though as the elder stands zie realizes zie’s _still_ the shortest person in the room.

Loki-the-elder has red hair—brilliant red, like Jotun eyes, and roughly shorn. It curls and sticks every which way, a lot like zir own did when zie was younger and it was shorter, like the tips still do when it’s wet. Zir skin is like imported wood--white oak, or cedar?--and zie’s wearing more clothes than Loki’s ever seen on one person except maybe the dark elf traders. There’s no lines on zir face, certainly not any that match the strange whorls Loki’s own skin has that aren’t Jotnar at all, and Loki finds zirself almost sickly fascinated by the bare skin.

Zie keeps glancing back to zir sire’s eyes, though, even as one too pale hand reaches out to touch zir own jet black hair.

“Pity it’s not red to match your eyes.”

“I like it well enough.”

That gets zir a quirk of a smile.

“Good.” Zir sire pauses, eyes distant. “Good. You remember that, when you’re older.” Zie smiles. “You have a question?”

“What colour are your eyes?” Loki asks bluntly. That gets zir a raised brow, and zie tsks annoyed in the back of zir throat that zir sire apparently isn’t quite as smart as zir mother. Zie knows where zie got zir brains from. “They’re not blue, least not any blue I know. I want to know what colour you call them.”

“Green,” Loki says. “They’re green. Like live things.”

“There are live things in Jotunheim.”

“A fair point. Like plants, then.”

“Those are real? What do they taste like?” Loki pulls zirself up to sit next to zir sire. “You’re meant to be a fairy, right? Is it true you eat only plants? Do you have an army of human kip you kidnapped?” Zie pauses “That must be _atrocious_. Byleist just screams all the time when zie doesn’t get zir way.” As Laufey sits down, zie leans back against zir, getting comfortable against zir mother’s side. Loki-the-elder has turned on the couch to watch zir, one eyebrow raised in curiosity while grinning.

“You’re a curious little thing.”

“I’m thirteen.” Zie bares zir teeth—they’re sharper than zir sire’s, zie can see as much. Grinning with one’s teeth probably means something else to fairies, though, if how zir sire looks even _more_ amused is anything to go by.

“Practically fully grown then, but no less little.”

“Loki,” Laufey says, scratching zir scalp lightly. Zie finds zirself fighting a yawn despite zir irritation. Zie wonders how far away zir bed is, or if zie can simply sleep here. It’s been years since zie’s slept next to Laufey though; zie’s too old for that now.

“Only teasing, Laufey. Do you have any other questions, little self?"

"What, like where you've been or why you supposedly cursed me?" Loki sniffs, rolling zir eyes. "You're _only_ my sire, _everyone_ knows sires aren't any use." Zie watched the elder's face through lowered lashes, curious how zie'll react to being called useless. Most people get upset when Loki does that.

" _Loki_ ," and that _is_ directed at zir.

"Supposedly," Loki-the-elder echoes, waving Laufey's indignation away.

"Well if it were _actually_ a curse, it wouldn't be so _interesting_ ," Loki explains, closing zir eyes and stretching. "I get to time travel. Sort of. And you didn't get invited to my name day, so what better way to see me than to show up all fairy-king angry and 'curse' me? That's what I'd do if I were a fairy king."

"You have a very high opinion of yourself."

Loki opens an eye, mirroring the raised eyebrow zie sees.

"And you don't?"

Loki-the-elder laughs outright, head tossed back and loud as ice shattering in spring. Loki doesn't know what fire sounds like, but zie thinks it might sound a bit like zir sire's laughter, and zie opens both eyes, startled.

"It's time for bed, I think," Laufey says. "I'll have to find who let you near the wine later."

"But--"

"No," Laufey says, standing. It's childish, but zie latches onto the only other immovable object--in this case zir sire's arm. Laufey is frowning down at zir, so zie speaks quickly, even as zie notices how still Loki-the-elder is.

"Please, Mother, zie didn't answer my questions from before, we only just met." Zie pouts, just a little, just the way zie knows makes Laufey teeter. "It's my birthday, I'm thirteen now--"

"Practically an adult," zir sire inserts smoothly, pulling zir arm free and wrapping it around Loki's shoulders. Loki can't help but notice how _hot_ zir sire is, even through all zir clothes. "Zie's only just met me, Laufey, let zir ask zir questions despite how useless sires apparently are. I do wonder where zie picked up that idea."

Laufey only glares at them both, arms crossed across zir chest, before sighing and shaking zir head.

"You're both impossible. Fine. But be kind to zir--you've done enough with your schemes."

"You only spoil zir. Good. Someone should."

"I mean it, silver tongue," Laufey says, in zir voice that brooks no argument, the one even _Loki_ knows better than to cross. Loki wonders hazily what they are discussing--there's more than just gifts disguised as curses and sires returning for a night here, but the wine has muddled zir thoughts. Perhaps zie shouldn't drink it again.

Zie glances at Loki-the-elder, out of curiosity, and it's only by chance zie sees zir eyes glimmer red before zie speaks.

"I promised to do no further years ago--do I need repeat myself?"

"No," Laufey says. "I only remind you. For all zir brilliance, zie is but a child. Do not forget it."

"I'm right here," Loki complains, pushing zir sire's arm away. "Are you going to answer my questions or not?"

Both zir blood parents look at zir, startled. Zie doesn't understand why zir mother looks so _sad_ , or the considering weight in zir sire's eyes, but then the tension is broken and zir sire is chuckling again, a hand smoothing Loki's hair.

"Ask, then, little self, and I will answer what I will."

Years later, Loki will still not recall all zie asked, or even all the answers zie was given, but zie will remember heat and laughter and _green_.

For a time, it's a pleasant memory.

***

Despite the fact Loki will never be Queen of Jotunheim, zie has endless lessons dealing with statecraft and politics and diplomacy. Zie has little use for any of them, but it makes zir mother happy enough zie turns blind eye when Loki skips yet another combat lesson in favour accidentally destroying a room of the palace in the name of ‘technological advances.’

Of course, when Thrym hunts zir down, Loki will admit _perhaps_ there was some use to the diplomacy lessons after all.

***

Very very occasionally, when zie’s older, zie wonders why only a thousand years. It seems so _specific_ , and it makes zir uneasy. Jotnar live _thousands_ of years; most everyone zie knows will still be alive.

A thousand years is a _human_ timespan, something humans would make legend of. It’s not a short period of time for a Jotun, but it isn’t the span of half a life, let alone _generations_.

Zie wants to ask why a thousand years, but zie’s not seen zir sire since zie turned thirteen. When zie asks Laufey, Laufey shakes zir head.

“Fairies work to their own ends. Who can tell?” Laufey says.

Loki doesn’t say anything, looking up at zir mother. Zie’s not a kip anymore, so zie doesn’t stamp zir foot and tell Laufey zie’s lying, though Laufey is. Loki tries to think of why zir mother would lie or would need to lie.

It doesn’t lessen zir unease.

“I see,” Loki says, then offers a brilliant smile zie doesn’t feel. “Come hunting with me?”

***

There’s tension with Asgard.

There’s always been tension with Asgard, for as long as Loki can remember, but this is not the same sort. Land rights and travel is being questioned this time—namely the Jotnar trips to Midgard. Asgard wants Midgard and its humans left alone. Loki doesn’t see why they’re so upset about a tradition that’s gone since before even Laufey was born, other than Asgard dislikes anyone traveling not by Asgard’s ways.

But Asgard always has been jealous of Jotunheim’s wealth and secrets. Loki can recite the stories about all the ways Asgard has tried to slip into Jotunheim and steal them both away. About Freyr’s threats that took Gerd away, how Skadi’s mother was killed for want of zir bounty.

“Loki,” Byleist hisses. Loki ignores zir younger sibling, curled up against the balcony and watching the court below. Odin-King is talking to Laufey. Loki can’t hear half of what they say, but zie can piece it together from the half zie does—Odin wants Jotunheim to swear not to go to Midgard anymore.

Odin calls zirself the All Father—zie thinks zie has a right to tell Jotunheim what to do, some benevolent sire overseeing the whole nine realms. The only rights Odin has to rule the realms zie’s given zirself with war—like bleeding the realms is any substitute for the pain of _giving_.

Laufey tells Odin no, and then offers zir hospitality in the same breath. Loki smiles, because zir mother is clever; even Odin won’t insult Jotunheim by refusing the Queen’s hospitality, but now zie can’t gracefully storm off and talk about how unreasonable Jotunheim is.

Loki slips down from zir perch carefully; Byleist is still waiting, chewing zir bottom lip, watching the hallway.

“Well?” Byleist asks as soon as they’re out of earshot of the great hall.

“Asgard wants an excuse to attack us,” Loki tells zir.

“They’ve always wanted an excuse. I thought you were smarter than me.” Byleist pauses when Loki doesn’t respond. “Loki?”

A thousand years. It isn’t so long a time, not for a Jotun life. Unless…

No.

“We’re being set up,” Loki says, shoving the thought away. Shoving away thoughts of fate and Norns and their weavings and fairies that like to tangle their fingers so it goes astray. Jotunheim has fought wars with Asgard before, and zie has always won before. This war will be no different, even if Jotunheim is one of the last great realms that hasn’t sworn an alliance with Asgard.

Loki feels sick.

“Well yes,” Byleist says. “When does Asgard not try to at least make it look like we’re at fault?”

“True.” Zie looks up at zir brother, sired by zir mother. Laufey never has born another kip else than Loki; Laufey says zie will not, and sires Farbauti’s kip, instead. It is Farbauti’s kip that stand to inherit Jotunheim, one day, because Loki has been cursed to sleep, but Loki has never considered _why_ zir mother would make such a choice.

If Jotunheim is meant to fall, what matter is it if the heir is not Loki Laufeydottir? Why bear more children, only to lose them?

“You’re thinking again,” Byleist says. Zie’s gnawing at zir lip again. “This isn’t like all the other times, is it?”

Loki smiles. Zir chest hurts.

“No, Byleist,” Loki says, “it isn’t.”

***

“When did you know?” Loki asks as zie hears Laufey come in. Zie doesn’t turn from where zie’s perched on the window seat, wrapped in furs and staring blankly at the city outside that shines like the gems Laufey likes to braid in Loki’s hair.

Zie hears Laufey pause, then zir mother’s soft tread.

“Loki, you are meant to be in bed. It’s nearly dawn.”

“You must have known very early, to have already made your bargain with sire in time for my name day.”

Laufey sits on the other end of the window seat; Loki finally takes zir eyes away from the city to look at zir mother. Zie looks… tired. Unhappy. For a moment, zie feels guilty—zie loves zir mother, for all zir faults, and knows zie is loved, too.

“You have always been too clever,” Laufey says.

“I got it from my mother.”

“And your sire.”

Loki looks away, back to the window.

“When did you know?” zie asks again.

Laufey sighs. Before Loki can stop zir, Laufey picks zir up, settles zir in zir lap so Loki’s head is resting against zir mother’s chest. Zie can hear zir heartbeat, feel zir soothing chill against zir cheek, even as one of Laufey’s arms wrap around zir shoulders. Not for the first time, zie resents how small zie is and tries to get out of Laufey’s lap.

“Indulge an old fool, Loki,” Laufey whispers into zir hair and Loki stills, allows zirself to be held. There’s heartache in Laufey’s voice, deep and empty as the ice canyons, and zie shivers despite zirself.

“Why?” Loki asks. Zie feels like a child, more than zie ever felt when the curse was nothing more than another adventure—how foolish of zir.

“Because I am your mother.” Laufey kisses zir head. “You were not even born when I knew how Jotunheim would fall. This has been longer coming than even my lifespan.”

“And the sleep? The fairy king? Why—“

“Politics, and then some. There’s more at play with Farbauti than even you know, snowbird. You are clever—why else have I not born more children?”

“You are Queen. You are the blood and soul of Jotunheim.”

“And I would see the blood and soul of _Laufey_ survive this war. You have many fates, Loki—I only bargained that you have one that grants you happiness.”

“I am happy with you, in Jotunheim,” Loki says, resting zir forehead against zir mother’s chest.

“I know.” Laufey smooths zir hair, kisses the crown of zir head. “I know, snowbird. You are sentimental, like your mother. I am sorry to have given it to you.”

“And sire?”

Laufey is quiet, then says, “Zie is sentimental, too, in zir own ways. Zie cares for zir own, even if only at a distance. Look at me.”

Loki looks up, hopes that zir face doesn’t betray how angry and soul sick zie is. Laufey touches zir face, runs fingers over zir lines—all of them, even the fairy ones.

“I love you, snowbird. It is selfish, I know it is selfish, but I would let Jotunheim fall a thousand times over to keep you safe and whole. Jotunheim can be rebuilt, always, but you—I will never have you again.” Laufey kisses zir forehead and pulls Loki close.

“I love you, Mother.” Zie curls closer to zir, trying not to choke on tears welling up. To have never thought of this. “I… understand.”

Laufey laughs, sad and quiet.

“You do not, and you might hate me yet for it.”

“Don’t die,” Loki whispers. “Please. Please don’t die.”

“You need sleep, Loki. Come, my spoilt princus, the bed is not so far.”

“Carry me,” Loki says, not risking meeting Laufey’s eyes.

“You see? I indulge you too much.”

But Laufey still gathers zir up and carries zir to bed, never mind that Loki is nearly an adult, too old to be sharing zir mother’s bed. Laufey is careful in unbraiding Loki’s hair, setting each shimmering gem aside, large fingers gentle as they tease out knots, and zie does not say anything when Loki closes zir eyes tight, tears spilling over. Only sings, like zie would when Loki were small, until eventually, Loki falls asleep, wrapped up in zir mother’s chill.

***

Loki does not tell anyone else about what zie knows will happen. Part of zir hopes, brightly and fiercely as the winter lights, that Laufey is wrong, that the fates are wrong, that Jotunheim will win this war as it has all the other wars. That the curse-blessing will be wasted, that zie will wake and zir mother will be alive and whole and well, just as bright and shining as Jotunheim itself.

***

“There’s going to be a war,” Byleist tells zir one afternoon in the library. “Farbauti-mother says so, at any rate.” Byleist flops down next to where Loki is sitting. “What do you think, Loki?”

Loki stirs, tries to decide what zie can and can’t tell Byleist through the fog that’s settled in zir mind today.

“Probably,” Loki says, trying to force back a yawn and failing. Zie’s so _tired_ today. Byleist is talking, though, so zie tries to focus on what zir half-sibling is saying. Blinks—just for a moment, just to rest zir eyes—

“ _Loki_ ,” Byleist says, shaking zir, and zie jerks awake and nearly falls off zir chair. Byleist catches zir with one hand—of course, everyone is so much _bigger_ than zir. “Are you—“

“Am I what?” Loki says, or tries to say, but it comes out _m I wha_. Zie pushes at Byleist, tries to sit back up and ends up putting zir head down on the table, on top of zir book. “Just a… moment.” Zie’s so very _comfortable_.

Vaguely, beneath zir exhaustion, there’s alarm.

Byleist says more, but Loki barely hears it. Blinks, realizes that Byleist is cradling zir against zir chest. Zir head lolls, forces zir eyes open—everything is a blur of blues and reds, vibrant silks, motion. Tongue heavy, zie tries to speak, but the words drool out of zir mouth and zir eyes close again.

Byleist is shouting. Roaring. It’s so _loud_ —how is zie meant to sleep with all this _noise_ , but that’s just like Byleist, _loud_ , just like zir name. Zie slaps at Byleist, twists, tries to burrow into zir cold and _sleep_. Everything begs _sleep_ —just a few moments, just enough until—

“Loki! Loki, Loki, no, no, this is too soon—“

Mother. That is Mother. Zie forces zir eyes open, dizzy, but zie can’t focus, reaches out. Zie’s being handed off, careful, until it is Mother’s familiar chill against zir skin, Mother’s familiar hands stroking zir hair, zir face, soothing. Mother sounds so _unhappy_ , so upset, and Loki doesn’t understand _why_.

“Snowbird,” Mother says, kissing zir face, a hand stroking zir lines and other arm cradling zir close. “Snowbird—“ Mother chokes off. Loki blinks, manages to focus briefly on zir face, reaches up. Zie’s never seen Mother cry.

“Mother,” Loki mumbles. There is something zie needs to ask, it’s very important. Zie can sleep after. “Mother.”

“Loki.”

“Promise. Promise you’ll be here…” zie trails off, thought forgotten, worried. Mother is crying, worse now, wounded, soft keening noises of mourning. Zie’s not dying, is zie? Only sleeping. Just a moment, zie’s so tired…

 _oh_.

“You won’t be alone,” Mother promises, resting zir forehead against Loki’s. “You won’t be alone, I promise, snowbird, Loki, I love you, you will be happy, I promise you, I promise, oh _Loki_.”

Zie tries to stay awake, but it’s so hard. So very, very hard, and zir eyes are so _heavy_ , Mother’s chill so _comfortable_. Mother is whispering, soothing and sweet things, lullaby and story, rocking back and forth, like zie’s a child again, until zie can’t open zir eyes at all, zir fingers tangled in Mother’s until, at last, zie falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a very short chapter tomorrow for day 7, and then no more on this story until I magic up time to finish another chapter. We'll see Tony tomorrow.


	2. When I was a boy, my uncle told me this story....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAah the response to this has been amazing so far ;u; Thank you all so much!
> 
> As I mentioned yesterday, this will be the last update for a little while--I need to find time to write the next few chapters, and my life is crazy busy as it's intensives for Korean students (whom I teach).

**20 years ago**

“Would I lie to you?” He pauses; the look Tony is giving him suggests that he would do _exactly_ that. A clever child, but then, that’s why he picked him. There’s only a little time left, but humans live so fleetingly that he could hardly start sooner than this.

“Would I lie to you about _science_ ,” Loki amends.

“No,” Tony says, but the six year old hardly sounds convinced. Loki grins.

“How about a little proof?” Loki asks, crouching down. “You can use this to find it--not now, you have things to do here, but later. When you’re older.”

“If you say so, uncle Luka.”

“Lukka,” Loki corrects, pulling out a small box he’s spent so long tweaking. Not actually Jotnar in make--the Jotnar have little use for counting time on human scales or compasses--but Tony won’t know that for years. Long after it will matter. It isn’t like he hasn’t already given the boy gate gems and trinkets that _are_ Jotnar.

“Lukka,” Tony echoes, but there’s no venom in his voice, eyes wide. “Gimme. Please. How does it work?”

Loki grins.

“You’ll figure it out. Remember, not yet. Promise.”

Tony frowns, hands running over the silver and blue designs patterned into the box.

“Promise, Tony, else I won’t let you have it.”

“I promise,” Tony sighs. “Tell me about the prince again.”

“Princus,” Loki corrects.

“Yeah, the princus. The one that sleeps. He’s still there, right?”

“Zie. And yes, zie is. You’re going to be very good friends one day.” 


	3. And so the spell was broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay really really last thing i've got for a while! 
> 
> i felt bad leaving you with such a tiny Tony part
> 
> day 8 of 12 days of yule

**Present Day**

Tony never actually planned on his life work to focus around finding an alien civilization that he grew up hearing about, ninety percent sure his uncle was lying through his teeth. And, for the most part, it hadn’t. Between the Iron Man suit and arc reactor technology, he’s been busy.

Jotunheim’s just been a side-project. A pipe dream. A fairy tale to drink over, every now and then.

(The problem is that ten percent really; Uncle Lukka was always great at making him believe, lack of evidence be damned.)

And now, absolutely vital--because if there’s a drop of truth in anything Lukka said, Tony might have a way to stop the palladium poisoning. He remembers all those stupid stories, the designs his uncle would sketch in a not exactly neat hand, metals and gems and rocks handed off to Tony as rewards for faith. Lukka never said what they were (fuck, Lukka never called anything what it actually was, that’s the _problem_ ), but his science was never wrong.

(“Would I lie to you about science?” and a quirk of a grin that curled like his red hair.)

Tony pushes his hair back from his face, frowning at the compass buzzing slightly against the table. It won’t stop vibrating--hasn’t, ever since the palladium poison started to spread--and it’s why Tony even _thought_ of Jotunheim. Hell, it won’t even stop _glowing_ , and the energy readings off it are almost as weird as the arc reactor’s can be.

Hence dragging out all said rocks and gems that Lukka gave him that were supposedly Jotnar trinkets, used to power along toys and baubles for loved ones. That was a lie he never bought, but if the compass is going to buzz at him now, he might as well pull out everything he does have.

“Jarvis?”

“It does not appear to be a known element, sir,” Jarvis says, distressed. “The composition does not match any geode on Earth.”

Tony grabs the gem up--externally, it looks like a sapphire, maybe, even if it’s an impure blue. It’s cool to the touch and tougher than diamond. Hell, it isn’t even brittle (which makes no sense), and eventually he’d given up on scraping a sample off of it.

“Sir—”

“Nope, not putting it down. Undiscovered elements aren’t stable Jarvis--they barely last a few seconds, if that. This is a crystal. How? Does the energy reading match up with the compass?”

“Sir, I don’t think the device is only a compass. I believe it is also a timer.”

“You’re shitting me.” Tony picks up the compass--timer--flipping it open again. He turns, it turns. It acts like a compass. Inside, the gems that make up the face are giving off a dull glow that started about the same time it started to vibrate. He chances holding the gem of nonsense element up to the compass-timer's face gems. It’s a motion he’d done a lot when he was a dumb kid trying to break his promise and figure out how to get to Jotunheim early.

(Usually immediately after Howard being an ass.)

Nothing happens, just like it has always not happened. Tony sighs.

“Well, what else do we—”

“ _Sir_ —”

Tony's gut wrenches and suddenly it is incredibly cold and pitch black except for the glow of the arc reactor. Nothing. _Right_. He is never ever making an assumption like that ever again.

“Well fuck,” Tony says. “Jarvis?”

No response.

It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, to realize he's definitely not in the lab because the lab wasn't this cold. Cautiously feeling his way across the room towards a sliver of pale light against the floor, he's pretty sure he just managed to do something really nasty to physics--not a particularly hopeful prospect. More, the timer-compass has stopped vibrating and glowing while the crystal is just _gone_. Awesome.

He gets his hand in the cloth--it feels like silk, maybe (so not the lab, curtains are a fire hazard waiting to happen)--and pulls. The curtain tears apart in his hands, falling on top of him, but once he’s managed to get out from under them (well, mostly, no use not getting himself a makeshift cloak), he’s nearly blinded by…

By _moonlight_. That’s definitely moonlight. That’s definitely _three_ moons just hanging out in the sky against a background of stars so bright and dense it hardly looks like night at all. He tears his eyes away from the sky, looks down, and sucks his breath in. His mouth has fallen open, and he doesn’t even care--that’s a _city_. A huge, sprawling city.

For a few long moments, he just takes it in. It’s beautiful, built and carved in the gap between glaciers. There are bridges that hang between various platforms that connect the two sides and while there are no lights, it glitters and gleams under the moonlight, ruined and empty and breath-taking.

He looks down at the timer-compass in the moonlight, at the gems that have always twisted and turned--for the very first time, all three are lined up, pointing behind him.

Tony turns.

He’s in a bedroom. He’s in a bedroom, ceiling high above painted and carved to mimic the night sky outside. The bed is scaled to someone closer to Tony’s height only in that he could probably get in it without a step stool, but everything else is clearly for people who are much bigger.

(Giants. Jotnar. They’re _real_. This is real. Lukka _wasn’t_ actually lying to him, this is—)

He steps closer to the bed, cautious, twists and turns the compass-timer in his hands, but the three gems never change where they point. The pile of furs on the bed don’t move just because Tony is there.

There probably isn’t anyone here anymore. And if there is….

“Just a corpse, Tony,” he mutters to himself. Just a corpse--people can’t actually be cursed to sleep a thousand years, people can’t actually manage to survive sleeping that long without medical aid. There’s no medical supplies here--the place is eerily silent and the room echoes as Tony crosses it.

(Nevermind Jotunheim is _real_ , that he’s _standing_ in the palace, that he just teleported to a whole other _world_.)

There’s a Jotun in the bed. Zie is curled on zir side, face pressed to pillow, like zie’s simply dozed off for the evening. Zir mouth is open and very occasionally there’s a soft whistle when the air catches just so. Zie--Loki--doesn’t look at all like Tony ever imagined any of the times Lukka told him this story, but he knows those heritage lines that swoop across zir skin (made Lukka draw them for him often enough).

Tony feels light-headed. He should probably sit down. The bed just happens to be the closest, and he doesn’t bother to be careful because magical fairy princuses (princi?) probably only wake with a kiss anyway.

_Lukka wasn’t lying._

What is he supposed to do now? How does he get back? Can Jotnar speak his language, will they be able to communicate? Lukka always said their technology was far beyond Earth’s, that they could heal anything--but that won’t help Tony if Loki can’t even understand him.

Hell, is there even any way that Loki can help Tony? Maybe he should have thought this through properly  _first_ instead of just trying to figure out how to get the compass to work.

Tony shakes his head, adjusting his weight on the bed and rubbing his chest as he looks back at the sleeping princus. Zie looks nearly peaceful in sleep, strange and alien--maybe human sized and human shaped, but so far from any human that Tony’s seen that it just makes Loki look even more alien. Without thinking, he starts to reach forward, to touch, to see, to make sure that this is all _real_ ….

Loki stirs, rubbing zir face against zir pillow and mumbling.

Tony freezes.

Loki sits up, blue hands digging deep into the pillow and knuckles going white. Tony gets a brief impression of red eyes as the princus looks around the room, before zie’s launching zirself out of the bed and entirely ignoring him, voice sleep rough as zie shouts. Even as Tony reaches to steady Loki on zir feet when zie nearly falls, zie yanks away; slowly, Tony realizes Loki’s saying the same words... no, _names_ , over and over and over.

_Byleist, Mother, Thrym_...

He thinks he’s going to be sick as Loki stumbles to the window, realizes, actually _realizes_ that for all Tony’s heard this story, he’s never put together that Loki would wake to have lost--lost _everyone_. Tony knows that Jotunheim fell to Asgard, that Loki is the princus kept alive by a wish, the most beloved of all Jotunheim--

Loki shoves open the window Tony looked out before, voice climbing higher and sharper with every breath. Tony pushes himself to his feet and starts forward, afraid that Loki’s going to leap out with how far zie’s leaned, but it’s ill-founded. Loki goes silent, voice still echoing and faintly carried by the wind. Zie stares over the city, trembling and tense.

Tony doesn’t know what to do. He never thought about what it would mean to find and wake Loki, just knew he would eventually, and he starts to reach out only to stop short. Tony swallows, then opens his mouth to say something—

Loki curls over the window sill, tilts zir head back, and screams.


End file.
